


Pink

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Facials, Ficlet, M/M, Nipple Play, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 11:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13716273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis thoroughly enjoys a particular part of Prompto’s body.





	Pink

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Prompto being brought to orgasm by nipple stimulation alone. Das it. Preferably the other person being Noctis but I’m not picky about the other chocobros being there instead~ **if Prompto is in complete denial of it even being possible and claiming that ‘only girls are sensitive there’ ****if Noctis (or other) proves him HORRIBLY WRONG ******some overstimulation is greatly loved but not required *********if Noctis is the over confident, cocky little prince that we know he is and teases prompto to oblivion ************healthy amount of dirty talk if you can. Noctis has a voice that I’m pretty sure prompto can get off to alone. And my first born child to Noctis coming on Promptos face/chest cause holy shit he didn’t think it was possible either and he’s hella turned on” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=8984971#cmt8984971).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

By the time they finish up with Prompto’s part-time job, Noctis’ volunteer work, a quick training session with Gladiolus, and a few miscellaneous chores around the apartment just to prove he’s not a _complete_ deadbeat, there’s only about half an hour left before Ignis will inevitably show up with dinner. They use it to the fullest. Noctis pulls Prompto down onto his couch with touch-starved hands and makes up for the last few days spent apart—he drags Prompto tightly in and covers him in kisses. Prompto is just as breathless, just as _ready_ , eagerly meeting Noctis for one frantic kiss after the other. They make out like the not-quite-teenagers-anymore that they are, squeezing and licking out one another’s mouths. Prompto still tastes like the cheap chocolate hearts he picked up on the way over.

It doesn’t take long to go from _just starting_ to _rock hard_ —Prompto’s hotter than Ifirit’s fire, and it’s all for _Noctis_ —really, truly. He loved Prompto’s lean body from the first time he got to feel it beneath his searching hands, but he loves it even more after Prompto’s last midnight confession. It’s not just that it’s trim and fit and tight with sinewy muscle, but it’s that way _for him_. Prompto did this all for _him_. So much work, so much effort, and Noctis would’ve loved him at either weight, but knowing that Prompto did so much just to impress him, thought about him and sweat for him, makes it so much _hotter_. Noctis tries to reward Prompto for that devotion by worshipping his body.

Noctis’ hands trace all over. He slips out of Prompto’s yellow hair to smooth over Prompto’s rounded shoulders, gliding down his arms and looping around his middle, blunt nails raking down over his thighs. Prompto bucks up into him, but Noctis doesn’t go there—not yet—because he knows how excitable Prompto is, and he wants to use _all_ the time that they have left. So he runs back to Prompto’s chest instead, where he paws at Prompto’s flat breast until Prompto’s rocking into that touch and whimpering in Noctis’ mouth. Noctis’ can feel where Prompto’s pert nipples are starting to tent the fabric—he gives them a little squeeze through Prompto’s shirt, then drops down to poke his fingertips beneath the hem.

Prompto groans at the attention. He grinds harder when Noctis goes back up, hiking his shirt higher, until it’s bunched beneath his armpits and stretched across his pecs, showing off the little pink buds that have already pebbled. Noctis takes both in his thumbs and index fingers, tweaking them just enough to make Prompto gasp. When Noctis presses them in and drags them in slow circles, Prompto actually breaks the kiss to _moan_.

It’s loud, filthy, _perfect_. Noctis licks at the side of his mouth and mutters, “’Love your tits, Prom.” He can’t help his grin—he knows he must look lecherous, but Prompto would turn anyone on. Prompto gets impossibly cuter when he pouts.

He mumbles, husky, “Boys don’t have tits...” but he can’t really be mad, because his hips are still rocking into Noctis’. Noctis punishes his defiance by tugging both nipples forward—Prompto cries out and arches into the touch.

“Sure they do,” Noctis purrs, thumbing those tits the entire time. Prompto’s chest rises and falls into the action, heaving harder with his laboured breath. “Yours are just really small, but I still like them, because they’re _so_ fun to play with.” He demonstrates by pinching _hard_ , and Prompto gasps with his whole body. His light skin is flushed with his desire, but his freckled cheeks colour deeper—thick with embarrassment that only makes him all the more endearing. Noctis nips at his chin and soothes, “S’okay, babe... I like how you’re so sensitive there...”

“’M not sensitive,” Prompto stubbornly counters. He even leans away from Noctis’ next kiss, but his chest is arched forward into Noctis’ fierce hold, and he’s still hard, still grinding into Noctis’ thighs. Their legs are all tangled up, but Noctis diverts one arm to pull Prompto a little closer, to drag Prompto up into his lap. Prompto’s starting to pant, and he mumbles through it, “Only, ah... girls are sensitive... t-there...”

Noctis just snorts and chases another kiss—this one, Prompto surrenders to, even leans into him as he deepens it, thrusting his tongue as far into Prompto’s warm mouth as he can go. He waits until he’s kissed Prompto breathless before he growls, “Oh yeah? Let’s see.” Then he gives Prompto’s chin a final kiss and trails his mouth down, along Prompto’s bobbing throat and over the hump of his shirt, onto his blushing chest.

He kisses Prompto’s left nipple, gives it a fond lap of his tongue, then spreads his mouth open around it and closes up again. His gaze flicker up to Prompto’s, and he’s not surprised to see Prompto so lust-clouded that his eyes are almost entirely black. Noctis smirks around his mouthful and _sucks_ , hard enough that Prompto cries out again and bucks into him. Noctis proceeds to blow Prompto’s mind by blowing his nipple, rolling it around and licking it clean and suckling it dry. Prompto squirms in his holds and starts spilling so many lewd, delicious noises that it’s hard to keep track. He even gasps, hoarse and wanton, “N... Noct... _please_...” He’s easily the hottest thing Noctis has ever seen.

And Noctis isn’t finished. He worships Prompto’s left nipple until Prompto’s eyes are watery, his hips rolling into Noctis so steadily that they seem out of his control. Then Noctis finally relinquishes his hold, blows over the wet, red circle he’s left, and licks across to the other nipple. He pinches the one he abused, which leaves Prompto practically crying. Noctis toys with his raw chest anyway, until Prompto’s begging, “Ah! N-Noct, it’s... ah, sore... I can’t—”

Noctis only lets go long enough to purr, “But you’re so hard.” He can feel it, even though he doesn’t touch it. Prompto whimpers helplessly. In that moment, Noctis decides: “Sorry, blondie, but I gotta teach you a lesson—so I’m gonna make you come from this alone.”

Gritting his teeth in obvious frustration, Prompto insists, “That’s not fair—!” 

But when he tries to touch himself, Noctis grabs both wrist and pushes them up. Noctis holds Prompto’s hands against his own chest and relinquishes that nipple again to order, “Hold your pretty tits out for your prince, Prom...”

Prompto chokes back a sob of over-stimulation but obeys, thrusting himself forward and placing his trembling hands on his rolled-up shirt. He already looks _wrecked_ —the most turned on that Noctis has ever seen him. Noctis files that away for future reference, because he knows he’s _definitely_ going to be playing with Prompto’s chest in the future. Every chance he gets. He returns to Prompto’s nipple and circles his tongue around the bud, teasing it into oblivion. 

When he’s finished licking, sucking, pinching, and tugging both nipples to utter rawness, both flushed and crimson and glistening with spit, Noctis pulls back just to look—to take in the perfect picture of his writhing boyfriend. It’s so hot that he thinks _he_ might come just from the sight of it alone.

But he knows how he wants to finish, and he grabs Prompto’s shoulders and pushes them back, flattening him down into the couch. Prompto lies where he’s put, looking up at Noctis like begging for mercy. Noctis climbs right over him, kneeling over his stomach. Then Noctis finally pops his fly.

Prompto asks dizzily, “What’re you—” And then it’s clear enough: Noctis nudges the head of his leaking cock against Prompto’s nipple, circling around it until he’s fairly slicked up with his own saliva and precum. Then he shifts to the middle of Prompto’s chest, shaft lying between his pecs, and even though there’s no real crevice to slip through, Noctis starts thrusting. The flat surface is still warm, smooth, and best of all is Prompto’s pretty face, absolutely destroyed in its arousal. Noctis drops both hands to Prompto’s breasts and keeps playing with Prompto’s nipples as he humps Prompto’s body. Prompto lifts one hand to press his knuckles against his mouth and blubbers, “N-Noct, I’m gonna—gonna—”

Noctis knows, and that’s what does him: the sight of Prompto just on the edge of orgasm. He pauses his ministrations to squeeze Prompto’s pecs hard, and he bursts against Prompto’s collarbone, the fabric of his shirt adding extra friction as Noctis pumps it out. He splatters Prompto’s gorgeous face in cum, and humping Prompto’s chest drags and splatters more across it. Little white flecks dot his chin, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his lean throat and his taut chest. Noctis even manages to grab his shaft and push at one nipple, smearing seed over it. It’s completely mind-blowing. It’s wildly hot all the way through. It’s one of the best orgasms he’s ever had, and that’s saying something, because Prompto’s ass is tight and hot and used to be Noctis’ favourite thing in the world before he thought of fucking Prompto’s chest.

Prompto comes about halfway through. Noctis can see it. He knows what Prompto’s face looks like screwed up with total _pleasure_ , and he eagerly drinks it in. It’s made all the better with Noctis’ cum already painting him. Noctis can hear and smell it as Prompto finishes inside his pants from Noctis’ use of his chest alone. Noctis is ridiculously smitten.

It isn’t until they’re both done, spent and satisfied, Noctis still sitting on top and exposed, that he manages a smirk. Panting, he announces, “Told you so.”

Always a good sport, Prompto weakly smiles. He sheepishly admits, “Okay, so that was... kind of amazing.” Noctis knows. 

He still affectionately laughs, “Dork.” To which Prompto fondly sticks out his tongue. Noctis wants to kiss it.

Instead, he glances aside, seeking the bag that Prompto came with, and asks, “Hey, where’s your camera? I wanna take a picture of this.”

Prompto groans but beams.


End file.
